


Only Time

by Raven (Temaris)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Magnificent Seven AU: Two Blood, Old West, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Violence, Work In Progress, kind of poly, likely to remain unfinished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 08:23:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1681442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Temaris/pseuds/Raven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JD is attacked on a routine patrol. </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in Joe Lawson's TwoBlood AU, where Buck is a werewolf, and the seven are his pack and are sleeping with each other -- some more casually than others.
> 
> This version is changed from the first published one, mostly to clean up and expand, but the rape scene that was originally there is removed, but may be reinstated at a different place in the text. It is a WiP, but not wholly abandoned.

Buck's stomach growled, but he ignored the quizzical look Chris threw at him. Breakfast could wait. He leaned against the hitching post outside the jail, hat tipped forwards hiding his half closed eyes, slouching comfortably against the warm wood, the picture of a man at ease, half asleep in the sun. The town was quiet, the desultory sounds of early morning barely breaking the silence. JD had left on patrol at first light, and wasn't due back for a while yet. There was no real reason for Chris to feel so on edge, except that for all the apparently casual pose, Buck's whole demeanour screamed lethal tension, oblivious to anything except the north end of town, where JD should appear in a couple of hours. Larabee swept the street with a comprehensive look, checking the road both ways but said nothing. Buck would talk when he was ready. 

A few minutes later Chris found himself sitting forward, every sense on alert, gun in hand before he even registered the sudden bunching of muscles in Buck's back. "What is it?"

Buck's eyes narrowed, and he breathed deeply. "JD."

"He's early. If he cut short--" he started.

Buck lifted a hand minutely and the pack leader watched the road narrowly, accepting Buck's demand for silence. 

JD emerged out of the morning haze and even Chris' only human eyes could see something was seriously off. Irritation faded to concern, and his empty stomach tightened unpleasantly. JD was riding with about as much grace and ease as a tailor's dummy. His posture was stiffly erect, no sign of the fluid harmony between rider and horse that was so much part of the boy that its lack made him wonder momentarily if it was some other man riding a bay horse, wearing a bowler hat.

"Is that--?"

Buck watched as the rider came closer. Abruptly his nostrils flared and he pushed away from the post, his eyes flaring into absolute rage. Larabee gripped his shoulder hard, getting to his feet in the blink of an eye. Buck made no effort to move, and Larabee cut his eyes back to his lover.

"What?"

"Sweet Christ," Buck breathed, "Not JD..."

"Spit it out, Buck," Larabee snapped.

JD pulled up, Dancer jittering in place as though she felt the tension and longed to run from it. "Nothing out there. I'll be in my room after I've rubbed down Dancer." His words were clipped as though it was by main force that only they and no more broke through. His face was drawn and tense, no sign of a smile behind the tightly closed mouth, JD's dark brows drawn down over distant eyes. Larabee gritted his jaw taking in the bruises on JD's face: swollen mouth, reddened cheekbone and jaw clearly imprinted with someone's fist. The kid was hugging one arm to himself, suggesting further injury and the low rumble of rage coming from Buck hinted at worse to come.

"What happened, kid?" he asked softly.

JD turned Dancer as though he hadn't heard.

"JD," Chris said inexorably, and though JD's back tensed, Dancer kept on walking towards the livery.

"Who the hell does he think he is," Larabee snapped, taking the first step towards heading towards the livery after him.

"No." Buck put a hand on his arm. "God. No, Chris." Their eyes met for the first time, and Chris felt the weight of Buck's grief and rage and hate hit him with a nauseating jolt.

He looked at JD as he disappeared into the livery. "Buck?"

"I can smell it on him."

"Smell what," he whispered, but he was afraid he already knew.

"A man. Gun oil. Pain. Fear. Death."

He'd known. Rage boiled up. "Get Vin." They'd find him, backtrack the kid until they found the bastard, and then -- a wolfish smile pulled at Larabee's lips. No one messed with the pack.

"I'll do it." Buck said hoarsely. "It'll be quicker." Larabee met his eyes and knew it wasn't just the tracking that would be quicker; that Buck would without a second thought, or even a first, rip out the throat of whoever had done this to JD.

"Vin," Chris said firmly. "And tell him to take Josiah." Chris held Buck's eyes. "Kid's going to need you."

Buck swallowed and his eyes clouded with misery, the rage banked briefly. "He won't, Chris," he said with quiet pain. "He won't need any of us. He won't *want* any of us." Unspoken Chris heard 'He'll never let me touch him again...'.

"Listen dammit," he said, gripping Buck's wrist fiercely. "You get Vin, and Josiah, and you send them after whoever hurt our boy, and you go after *him*, until he remembers that we're seven, and a pack, and I'm not letting him go."

Buck's lips quirked at Chris' possessive ferocity. "Could be better done with two than one."

"Go." Chris caught Vin's eyes as he approached unasked from his wagon. "I'll explain."

Buck flicked a glance around him, and snorted quietly. The pack was gathering, already aware that something wasn't right. Nathan was wavering near his clinic, clearly not sure where to go, pulled towards JD, unseen in the livery, his eyes on Buck and Chris; Josiah was stalking down from the church in long strides, his poncho flaring out behind him; Ezra emerged from his lodgings blinking into the sunlight, all of them pulled by some indefinable tug towards the jailhouse. Vin was already staring at Larabee, eyes narrowed, calculating the expressions on their faces, guessing the extent of the trouble, his gun held loosely, the barrel resting on his shoulder.

Buck nodded, and walked briskly -- barely holding himself back from a run -- towards the livery after JD. Nathan caught Chris' eye and Chris nodded at Buck. Nathan followed after him, medical kit in hand, his lips thinning as he figured out who they were worried about.

* * *

"Wait, Nate," Buck raised a hand putting it squarely on Nathan's chest when he would have rushed in to help. "You're going to have to be real careful."

"I'm always careful, Buck." Nathan sounded almost offended, and tried to take a step into the livery.

"No." He gripped Nathan's upper arm. "JD's... he was. I think he was-- I smelled--" He halted as JD emerged unexpectedly, his face battered and frighteningly tranquil.

"I was raped," JD said, his voice, his face flat and quiet. He glanced between the two frozen men before ducking around them.

Nathan closed his eyes, drew a deep breath. He couldn't imagine the depth of pain and humiliation that caused the boy to speak so. He watched the boy limp awkwardly away and frowned. He hurried after him, making no effort to stop him or ask questions until the boy was in his room. He pulled the door to behind him and Buck and hesitated, wondering if Buck wanted to start as JD leaned his back against the wall, staring out of the window, the whole room under his defensively wary eyes. But Buck said nothing, and Nathan needed to find out how bad it was. Bad, he thought. Very bad.

"JD--" he started, wondering how to broach it, sure that no one would ever admit twice to such a thing happening to him. "There's no shame in--" He underestimated the trust JD was willing to give his packmates.

"I'm bleeding, Nate," he said quietly, never moving his eyes from the street. "It was all over the saddle." His voice seemed to float on the air, utterly detached and emotionless. "Probably ruined the leather."

They'd seen it as they followed him to his boarding house, the dark stains on his pants bitter confirmation of everything they had hoped to be untrue.

They locked the door, and Nathan moved towards the window. JD shifted away from him as he pulled the curtains to, his back tight against the wall, holding himself rigidly still through some huge effort of will. Buck could smell the fear coming off him, mingled with the sick pain and fear of the attack it turned his stomach, and he was abruptly grateful he hadn't eaten that morning.

"Willya let me help?" Nathan said carefully, eyes watchful, his hands open and his voice kind.

JD shrugged, the faintest motion of one shoulder. "Guess you better," he said tiredly, no fight left in him.

They exchanged glances, and Buck took a hesitant step closer, "Kid, do you want me to --"

JD's mouth trembled between a smile and tears, and he shivered convulsively. "Don't go, Buck. Please, don't go." The first glimmer of emotion and Buck almost wished for the passive neutrality to return at the sight of the pain roiling in the hazel eyes.

He took another couple of steps, standing close enough to feel JD's breathing, still not touching him. "JD?" His hands lifted convulsively, trying to offer an embrace, but uncertain of his reception. Very slowly, and carefully, as though he was afraid that moving too fast might shatter him JD leaned in, until his head rested on Buck's shoulder, his chest pressed close against Buck's torso. Buck's arms wrapped gently around him pulling him in close, safe. He buried his face in JD's hair, nuzzling kisses and licks into the soft darkness, one hand petting his back in long strokes, careful to stay well above the waist. JD shuddered and clung tightly to Buck, arms locked around his waist.

JD's eyes closed, and there was no movement in the room save the steady brush of Buck's hands, and the slow shudders rippling through JD.

"Sweetling," Buck whispered long minutes later, still stroking and petting. "JD, can Nathan touch you?"

JD nodded into Buck's shoulder but made no other effort to move.

"JD, I'm going to take off your gun belt. This is me, my hands, okay?" Nathan gently rested his hands on JD's waist, just above his belt, waiting for the boy to nod before swiftly undoing the buckle and easing guns and belt alike off with a firm impersonal touch. "There, done. I'm going to get your pants now." Both men felt the tension in JD's body, and Nathan caught the odd word as Buck murmured into his ear, his hands moving in comforting patterns on his back. "Hey, I forgot," Nathan's tone invited them to laugh at him, "we need to get your boots first, right?" Buck closed his eyes as the desperate burrowing into his shirt eased up a little, ignoring the liquid that squeezed out and dropped silently into JD's hair.

His boots were unlaced and removed, he lifted his feet obediently at a tug on his ankles, and Nathan paused, crouched at JD's feet, his eyes narrowly resting on the boy's ass.

"We've got to get those pants offa you, kid," he said firmly, as though it were no more than a leg injury that he had to look at. JD shifted minutely away from Buck and his hands slipped between their bodies unbuttoning then pushing them down a little. "Good kid," Nathan praised him, and tugged gently at the pants legs, pulling them down and inviting JD to step out of them one by one. "Good boy."

JD jerked away from him, burying himself against Buck as though he could slide inside the Two-Blood's skin, shivering helplessly. Nathan's eyes met Buck's, and they saw a promise in each others eyes to not use that phrase again, to take care of him, to hate and maim and murder whoever had done this to him. They broke their gaze, and Buck's hands never ceased moving.

"Can we get him on the bed?" Nathan asked.

"JD?" Buck asked in turn, and they waited. Some faint easing in JD's body cued Buck and he took a step away from the window, bringing the boy with him, then another, and another until his calves hit the edge of the bed. "JD, you want to lie down?" He slid his hands up to the kid's shoulders, pulling the jacket off of them and down his arms, leaving just his shirt in place. JD moved as though towards the bed and stopped. He mumbled something and Buck smiled. "No, I ain't letting go. But you got to lie down first or I'll end up falling on top of you or something, and Nate'd beat the crap outta me." There was a faint chuckle and JD twisted his head up to peer up at him.

"Okay." He let them turn him onto his side on the bed, his back towards the window. Buck moved round the bed and sank down next to him, his back towards the door, holding him close.

"JD, I'm sorry, but this ain't going to be pleasant. I've got to see what he did, put some stuff inside ya to make sure it don't get infected. I did it for Buck, that time. It's only the stuff we used to help when your ass is sore, it's only me, okay. Buck's here, and I'm here, and we're gonna take care of ya." He lifted the shirt tails away from JD's backside and gritted his teeth at the bruising already marring the fair skin. "Buck, you want to tilt him so he's flatter, more lying on you? It'll make this easier on him."

Buck shifted, pulling JD into place.

Nothing was going to make it easier on JD. The boy wept silently into Buck's shoulder as Nathan's fingers probed, cleaned, anointed and withdrew and the two men pretended not to notice, Buck still murmuring soft endearments and comfort into an unhearing ear. JD only truly heard the tone, felt the warmth and the gentle affection in every touch, and slowly his tension slackened into exhausted, pained sleep.

"Is he hurt anywhere else?" Buck breathed as Nathan retreated to rinse his hands in the already bloodied bowl of water.

"I think his wrist is broke. Might be a sprain." He wiped his hands on his pants, leaving dark smears behind before settling on the edge of the bed and gently stroking his finger tips along JD's lower arm. The kid moaned, and Nathan frowned, stroking again along the soft skin. "No. It's broken. I'll set it and splint it when we've got some laudanum into him. It'll help with the memories too."

A hand on his arm stopped him before he could reach into his bag. "Not too much. He mustn't get used to forgetting that way," Buck warned.

"It'll help."

"Not enough. I want him to live through this, not end up in an opium den, or at the bottom of a bottle," his face was set and his eyes icy. "I'll help him." He turned his eyes down to the sleeping boy on his chest, "I know how to help him."

"You might not be able to," Nathan said softly, petting JD's flanks gently. "Some people don't."

They hadn't ever told JD about Buck's time with Warrick. No one had wanted to hurt him that badly, destroy some of that boyish innocence and joy in life. And now, life had destroyed it anyway. Cold ran down Buck's back. "Maybe if I take him out to Chris's place. Away from people's eyes." He gathered him closer. "Somewhere where we can be a proper pack, and make it right for him."

"Sex ain't going to cure him," he replied, warning in his voice.

"You think I don't know that!" Buck snapped. His voice softened immediately, "Sorry, shhhhh, go back to sleep," JD stirred and then fell quiet again. "Not sex," he looked at Nathan as though he was a fool to even think it. "Love."

Nathan smiled sadly. "Well, we've enough love between us all. Maybe--"

Buck stared steadily down at his sleeping friend. "No maybe about it."

* * *

Josiah Sanchez slammed the door to the small hut open, one hand out as it bounced off the wall and threatened to ricochet into his face. "Where are you!" He roared.

Tanner's gun was at the ready, his eyes flickering for any sign of movement. The only thing in the hut though was a crumpled pile of half naked body, partially covered by a fallen chair. They exchanged a glance, and Tanner aimed at the person on the floor from a bare yard away; while Sanchez rolled it over with one firmly placed foot.

"Jesus Christ!" Tanner swore. Whoever it had been was very, very dead.

"I think our little brother avenged his own honor," Sanchez said with grim satisfaction. The face had been smashed in, so beaten that it was barely recognisable as human. And the naked genitals had been ripped off, not cut, the tearing was too ragged, and stuffed into the man's own asshole.

"Remind me never to get on the kid's bad side," Vin said with a weak attempt at a grin.

"Justice is served," Josiah said with chill precision. He glanced around the room, saw nothing worth the keeping and gestured at the door. "I think we should see to our youngest, brother Vin."

Vin nodded and holstered the sawn off shotgun against his thigh. He looked thoughtfully at the small shack, and nodded once, decisively. He gathered a handful of punk from outside, returned to the single room, and struck flint on steel until he got a spark to catch hold in it. He laid the burning material at the edge of the nearest wall, and gently fed it with twigs until the floor and wall started to burn, then backed away. He shut the door gently and they mounted their horses in silence, and rode away.


	2. Chapter 2

Chris' booted heels seemed to echo with clipped anger as he stalked up the stairs of the boarding house to JD's room. He was more than angry, he was enraged; outraged; sick with horror and burning to do something, anything to relieve his churning emotions. He had every intention of slamming his way into the room. Of forcibly ensuring that JD knew he couldn't leave, had to stay -- until he rounded the top of the stairs and looked down the corridor.

Ezra was sitting outside JD's door.

He had evidently found a chair from somewhere. It was tilted back against the wall, Ezra's hat tilted uncharacteristically forward over his eyes. He didn't even twitch at the sound of Larabee's footsteps.

"Standish?"

"The door's locked."

Ezra's voice sounded choked, and he sniffed. Chris reached out, hesitated, then pushed Ezra's hat away. His eyes were closed, and a quick hand wiped at his cheeks.

"Is he-- have they said--" Chris stopped. "Are they still in there?"

"Yes." Ezra looked at the wooden planks of the door as though they might speak to him, reveal the secrets hidden behind them. 

"Have they said anything?" He was desperate for news. "Do you know how he is?"

"He was crying," Ezra whispered. "It was like listening to his heart being broken."

"Is he all right, damn you!" he yelled, and Ezra jolted out of his daze; the chair jerked and he fell with it.

Before either man could say another word, the door was unlocked from the other side, and Nathan's head peered out.

"Shut up, the pair of ya. And get in here." He turned on his heel, leaving the door fractionally open behind him. Chris reached a hand down to Ezra in apology and tugged him to his feet. They hurried after their healer, who glanced at them from his post by the bed, and told them to lock the door again.

"We can unlock it when the others get here."

Ezra locked it. It was easier than looking. Chris looked.

JD was asleep, sprawled half-dressed over Buck's fully clothed body, his face tucked into the crook of Buck's neck. His eyes caught and held on the bright red stains spotting the rumpled sheets, already drying at the edges. He took a deep breath, and made himself look over the kid and was surprised by the splint and bandages on the kid's arm.

"Damn, kid," he breathed. Without really meaning to he settled on the bed next to the two men. He stroked JD's head, "JD..."

"Let him sleep," Nathan warned him, "Best if'n he keeps still to help the healing, but I ain't tying him down. He'll panic. Sleep's the best thing for him."

"Will he," Ezra's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat to try to conceal it, "is he going to be okay?"

Buck's arms tightened around JD's back. "That's kinda up to him," Buck said softly.

"No," Chris contradicted him flatly. "It's up to us. I told you. He's pack. He's *going* to be fine."

The other three looked at him, but said nothing. Larabee's face said he was in no mood to be contradicted.

He pulled his boots and gunbelt off, and swung his legs up onto the bed. "Nate, Ez, you too."

It took some careful arranging, but JD was surrounded by the men, Buck under his sprawled, sleeping form, Ezra to his right, Nathan to his left, and Chris settled at the head of the bed, his back to the wall. Each of them touching him, holding him there safe, with the pack. Gradually each of them slept until only Chris and Buck remained awake, Buck stroking a broad hand over JD's hair in a steady mindless rhythm. Chris pulled his gun, turning it, checking the chambers and then lowering it loosely to the bed by his left thigh, his right hand resting on Buck's shoulder.

"Chris?" Buck asked softly.

"Just being sure," Chris answered calmly. "Vin and Josiah won't be back for a while."

"Reckon not," Buck agreed.

There really didn't seem to be anything to add to the conversation, although Buck turned his head to rest it against his lover's side, and Chris twined his fingers with JD's lax ones and gently pulled his hand up to rest against his chest. Eventually, Buck slept too.

* * *

They stopped a while, watching the shack burn, making sure that it was well set, and then rode back home in silence. Neither was a man of many words. Josiah suspected that Vin had none for this. He wondered, himself, what words could be said. Were there any that would bring JD back again?

He slumped a little. No. There was no bringing back JD. Perhaps, if they were lucky they might find a new person, but JD might be shattered beyond repair. He'd seen it in older men, and in younger. And in women too, body violated, heart broken, spirit and mind gone. Too many people who couldn't live with what was done to them.

But JD had had Buck to show him what it could be. Josiah smiled and then vanished as a gust of wind reminded him with its smoky, acrid stench just why they rode. 

Gentleness and quiet. That's what the boy would need. And, of course, Buck. He sighed, and Vin looked up for a moment, then away again. JD was tougher than he looked, Josiah thought, more adaptable than the rest of them. No point dwelling on borrowed troubles when they had enough real ones.

The silence dragged on.

"Wish he'd been alive," Vin grumbled, snatching a glance at Josiah.

"I imagine his soul is in plenty torment enough." Perhaps he should have said some words over him. Even the unsanctified dead, killed in a condition of mortal sin, deserved some words. He thought for a long moment, and said them. "May he rot in hell."

"Amen, preacher. Amen." Vin half grinned, and the expression held no humor or comfort in it at all.

Of course, if you wanted to be technical about it, they all seven of them were living in the condition of mortal sin. Forget about the little matter of lying down with each other, the thing that would trouble the town most if they knew; they had murdered, had taken money for murder, and were entirely willing able and likely to murder again. Even if technically they were keeping the law. Buck couldn't stop coveting his neighbor's wife, maidservant, daughter, visiting cousin, maiden aunt on the distaff side... He stopped himself, shaking his head. Ha. And if Chris Larabee had a god it was his gun -- or his dead wife.

Idolatrous, godless savages the pack of them.

He grinned. He knew there was a reason he stayed around.

"Preacher."

He looked up, and found Vin staring off into the distance as they jogged steadily back to Four Corners.

"Vin?"

Vin remained silent for a long time, and Josiah had almost forgotten he had spoken when he opened his mouth again.

"Have you -- do you --"

Josiah looked at the man, surprised at his uncharacteristic hesitancy. Vin would think of a thing, turn it around, consider it, and once he was sure of it, would say it.

Then again, this would make the most steady of men hesitate. He let him be, didn't try to fill the silences, knew that only Vin could truly say what was on his mind.

Even if he had a damn good idea.

"When you was -- Josiah, do you think he'll be okay?"

Josiah thought about it. The horses jogged along gently, and the rising heat beat down on them, gritty dust sticking to his sweaty skin.

"One day."

Vin considered this and shook his head. "It's never going to be the same, is it."

Josiah shook his head. No. It couldn't be. "But it might just be different. Not worse; different."

Vin grimaced, and Josiah wondered what was on his mind.

"If it was me, I wouldn't want to be cuddling down with fellows for a while."

"Maybe so." Josiah agreed mildly. "Or maybe I'd want my family to look after me as hard as they could."

Vin nodded, but the tension didn't leave his shoulders. "Saw girls who'd been, you know. Half the time they just got on with life, most the time they got married off right quick, sometimes to the bastard that did it. An' sometimes. Sometimes they lost their minds. Murdered him, or men who looked like him, attacked 'em, didn't leave it to the menfolk. An' sometimes they was just," he paused, and then said flatly, "broke."

"You think JD will break?"

"Nope."

"But--"

Vin half turned to look back at the burning smudge in the distance. "That wasn't real sane."

"Us or him?" Vin's eyes were steady and Josiah sighed. "No. But he was provoked."

Vin snorted. "Provoked. How bad d'you think kid like JD has to be provoked to beat a man past dead, and then tear him up?"

Josiah couldn't say anything, because he'd seen it too. And he'd seen the rifle, bloody at both ends. And the bed, spattered with blood, stinking of piss. And the rope, huddled in a pile of frayed and cut ends. And he couldn't stop thinking of a woman, twenty years or more ago, sobbing in his embrace, her world dwindling until all he could do was leave her with the sisters, and pray that one day, one day the awful things that had driven her so far away would lose their hold and free her again. He'd seen insanity before.

No. JD hadn't been real sane back there. 

He wondered if he ever would be again.

* * *

"No! Get off me! No!" JD's voice began as a mumble, and rose, until he was struggling against Buck's grip madly. "No! Let me go!" He scrambled over Ezra, instinctively avoiding Larabee, dragging the thin sheet with him. Wild eyed he looked for his guns, found them, and took three quick steps across the small room, ducked and grabbed one of his Colts, and swung around, his hand trembling as he pointed it at the four men watching him.

"Kid--" Buck said softly, and JD jerked his gaze to meet his eyes, but only for a moment. The second he met them he looked down, swallowing hard. 

"No," he whispered, "leave me be, please?" He took a half step back, nearly stumbling as his heel caught on the wall. He looked from one to the other to the other, trying not to meet anyone's eyes.

"JD," Nathan said calmly, and stood, "careful there, son, that thing's loaded."

JD looked at the gun as though he had never seen it before and had no idea how it got into his hands. "You -- you didn't do anything, did you? You know, anything..."

"Nothing excepting sleep," Buck said reassuringly.

JD's hand shook. He reached to steady the gun, and stared at the sheet held in it in confusion. "No," he whispered, and Nathan could see the memory rear up and fall upon him like a blow. "No."

"Out." 

Nathan didn't recognize the voice for a moment, and then watched, amazed, as Ezra kneeled up on the bed, and glared at the other three. "Out. All of you," he snarled.

"JD--" Buck said softly, and JD's eyes paused on him for a moment, softening a little.

For a moment, a scant handful of seconds, Nathan thought that Buck was going to get through to him. 

"Come on, son," he added, and Nathan flinched as JD did, sure that the convulsive spasm would close the boy's hand on the trigger. "Put the gun down for ol' Buck, hey?"

JD shivered. "Get out," he whispered, "get out, get out, getougetoutgetout!" Nathan swallowed. Closed his eyes and rose. Slowly. Carefully.

"John Dunne," he said quietly. He didn't look at JD. He knew that he couldn't bear their eyes on him. Knew, bone deep, that what they saw as caring, the friendly offer of comfort and strength, he saw as a declaration of weakness; the pain of losing more than just his self-respect, but losing *their* respect. His heart ached. He should have told them to get out before it came to this, before JD woke, surrounded by men who he *knew* were willing and able to fuck other men, however much they loved him.

It came to him that they should have left him with Inez, or -- he stumbled to a halt. There were no good choices. To let a woman see him so? Impossible.

JD was breathing hard. Briefly he wished -- he wished to turn the clock back, and ride out with him in the pre-dawn hours, not just hear the dull shudder of hoofbeats on the hard, dusty ground, and turn over and sleep again. If the kid kept on gasping air in he was going to pass out. He considered if that might not be a good thing, and then remembered the blood. No.

He stepped forwards slightly. A board creaked under his foot and the gun snapped up to find a line on his heart, hand rock steady. He held out his hand. "JD, son, it's just me, just Nate, you know me..."

"He can see--" Ezra began and was silenced by a brusque hand over his mouth.

JD shook his head. The gun drooped, and Buck moved restlessly, as though he wanted to go to the kid. Nathan bit back a smile, Buck probably did.

"Nate, make them go away, please?" JD's voice was calm again, as steady now as his gun hand had been a moment ago, and Nathan wondered what that meant. Was he back in control of himself? Perhaps it had just startled him, waking with the four of them around him. Perhaps it was going to be okay -- but even as he thought it, he knew it for the worst kind of lie. 

"Boys," Nathan said softly, "I'll see you later."

There was a pause. He saw Chris's fingers whiten against the blue of Buck's shirt covered shoulder, pulling him to his feet, reluctant and slow. 

"JD?" Buck whispered.

Ezra was pulling on his boots, gathered up Chris and Buck's. JD pulled the sheet up around himself. His face contorted, then smoothed out. "Please, Nate," he said, and closed his eyes. He leaned back against the wall, a sheet clutched around his waist, a cocked gun in his hand, shadows picking his bones out in grey bruises.

"Boys." Nathan wasn't sure this was right; but he didn't know what else to do. At least this way the kid might be persuaded to put down the gun. Behind him the bed creaked, and then the floorboards. Stockinged feet shuffled towards the door, then paused.

"Let us know when he's up to visitors," Chris said, and the door opened and closed, leaving just the two of them.

Nathan sighed, and walked over to the bed, rumpled and unmade. He pushed the pillows off, dragged off the blankets. He pulled the sheet out and turned it, flipping it in a graceful swoop to spread across the rough ticking. The seam lay neatly down the middle of the bed, and he smoothed it before tucking in the near side. A tug on the mattress made him look up. JD was silently pushing the edges of the sheet into place. A quick glance showed the gun laid down on the floor, near enough that JD could get to it before he could, but far enough away to make him smile gently.

"Thanks," he said, and tossed the rest of the bedding in place, the blankets grey and rough, but warm enough that in the summer heat the kid was probably going to prefer the sheet as covering. "You wanna fold down?" he asked, and JD nodded, tugging the blankets neatly into square cornered place.

"Now, that's got to be the first time I've seen that bed of yours fixed," Nathan said, faintly amused. "I figured you just didn't know how ta--"

"Usedta help Ma sometimes," JD offered, much to Nathan's unvoiced surprise.

"That so?"

"When I was little."

Nathan nodded. "You want to get back in it?"

JD stared at the bed for a long moment, and sighed. "They meant well."

"Yeah."

"Buck--" He sat on the bed, flinched, and stayed in place. "Buck's probably pretty mad at me."

"Reckon they're all pretty mad at someone, but it ain't you." The kid snorted faintly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess," he agreed under his breath, and looked away.

"Ain't no guessing needed."

JD shrugged, found a new topic. "Where's Josiah?"

"He and Vin went--" He realized even as he spoke that this might not be a good thing to say, but he was half started now, no undoing it. "--they rode out after whoever did this to ya," he finished, watching him carefully.

"Ha!" 

Nathan jolted back at the short, unamused sound that broke away from the kid. 

"Wish 'em joy of it."

Nathan wished he'd taken the opportunity when the rest of the boys left to get the water changed, maybe bring up some broth, maybe some biscuits. "Yeah?" Though the chances were pretty good that one of them was still waiting outside the door. Better than a chance, a certainty. He could send whoever it was for food. Distract the both of them. No point dwelling.

"Beat him to death with his own damn gun," JD said tersely, though something bleak in his eyes made Nathan wonder what more was hidden behind those brutal words.

"Good for you," he said, before he could think better of it. Something eased in the kid's face, and Nathan took his chance. "You reckon you could eat if I get something?" He didn't wait for a reply, but rapped on the door, and smiled to hear Buck's voice, 

"Nate?"

"Want some clean water, and some rags, and something for JD to eat. A good nourishing broth if'n ya can find it."

"Be right back." Buck's boots clattered down the stairs, and they both heard the murmur of voices, then the tramp of Buck's feet back up the stairs and the scrape of the chair as he settled back.

Nathan meant to say something to JD, maybe promise to get rid of him, or quip that Buck sure was persistent. He turned, and discovered a small smile on JD's lips. He let himself smile back, and for the first time thought, yeah. This will be okay.

* * *

Buck settled back into the chair by JD's door. Ezra was going to get something for the kid to eat, if he was lucky he might even bring enough for him too. He shook his head. He'd never made breakfast, and lunch had found him holding a sleeping boy, one hand brushing over soft, dark hair, breathing in the smell of Nathan's ointments, and soap, and dust, with the intrinsic underlying smell that he knew as 'brother'.

The day was blisteringly hot. He wiped at his face, wishing that he'd asked Ezra to bring him a beer, anything to cool down.

He didn't want to think. Thinking made him remember. Getting angry solved nothing. He'd listened to JD's soft words, sharp satisfaction bursting in when his keen ears heard that the kid had already killed his attacker.

"Taught ya well," he mumbled. His thoughts shifted, "How the hell did he take you down anyway, ain't you learned nothing? Riding along, staring at the sky like as not, damn fool kid."

He stopped dead. The words trembling on his lips were Warrick's words: you deserved it, you wanted it, it's all you're good for...

Oh god.

Bile burned at the back of his throat, and he stood, stumbled away down the stairs, weaving painfully from wall to wall, until he was out, outside, and throwing up, one hand on the warm front of the house, puking down the narrow gap between the buildings.

A hand gripped at his shoulder, relaxed. Chris. He swallowed, but his stomach churned again, and for a second he thought he was actually going to black out, he felt so dizzy, but it passed.

Even Chris's silence managed to sound interrogative, determined and worried. Buck laughed softly, and straightened. When he turned they were standing so close that he only needed to dip his face a little, and...

Chris took a step back, a warning in his eyes. "Might wanna rinse," was all he said, and Buck nodded. 

"Yeah." He took the beer Chris was holding and sluiced it through his mouth, then spat it after the vomit. "Thanks."

"He okay?"

Buck looked at Chris. It wasn't that long since Chris had protested that he didn't want a pack. Now -- now he had an excuse for letting the concern he'd always had slip out.

"Nate got him to laugh."

"Yeah?" Chris started walking back to the jail.

"Yeah." Buck took another mouthful of beer. Even without eating he'd need more than just this glassful to get even slightly drunk. He chugged it all back, and when he had emptied the glass, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, wiped the glass, ignoring Chris's eyes. "He was telling him he'd killed the bastard that did this." He eyed the glass thoughtfully, then put it carefully down, visions of it shattered, broken against the wall, scattered over the ground enough of a temptation that he wanted it away from him.

"Got him?"

"Oh yeah," Buck said. "Didn't get the details, but I'm guessing--" Their eyes met, in them the knowledge of what men could do to each other in the name of revenge, and Chris's eyes fell first.

"I'm guessing we're gonna get all the details we want when they're ready," he nodded up the road, to where Vin and Josiah were jogging slowly back into town.

Buck nodded. He wanted Chris to touch him, remind him that there was still hope. He'd lived through worse. JD could live through this.

He wanted Chris to touch him.

Their eyes held until a clatter on the street made Chris turn away. Buck sighed. No. It could wait. He slowly walked up the street to the jail, following Chris, until they were almost in their original positions, this time watching two men pulling up in front of them, hard eyed and stinking of ash and fire.

Chris didn't say a word, and Buck felt the anger rising again. "Well?"

Josiah regarded him as though seeing all the way back into his soul. "He is no more."

"Yeah, I know."

Vin looked up at that. "He talkin'?" he said hopefully.

Buck shook his head, and contradicted himself by saying, "Yeah, a little. Just that he was dead." He glanced at the horses, no body behind either saddle. "You leave him for the coyotes?"

Vin shook his head. "Wouldn't do that to no dumb coyote. We burned him in his hut."

"Hut?" Chris said sharply.

"Yeah," Vin shrugged. "Thought it was derelict. Out over by Coopers Canyon."

No one spoke for a while, and the horses shuffled uncomfortably under the weight of their saddles. Buck wondered how it was that they couldn't bring themselves to say it; he and Chris couldn't ask: what was there, what did you see? And worse, Josiah and Vin could not bring themselves to begin. What had been there? How bad was it? What had been done to JD?

A hand touched his forearm and he jerked, only realizing then that he was growling softly, the horses stamping and backing up. "I want a drink," Josiah said, and Vin nodded.

"Yeah, see you over in the Saloon?" Vin asked, and Buck watched them walk their horses down to the livery and disappear into the shady side street. Ezra walked past them, a cloth covered tray in his hands, and Buck felt an unexpected smile tug at his lips. Not a sight he would have believed he would see a year ago. He didn't tease, just sniffed and recognised the scent of chicken stew, and the softly spiced aroma of apple pie. Kid would like that.

He looked up at the curtained window, and even with his acute hearing couldn't pick out any sounds. Maybe JD was sleeping again. 

He wished he knew what had happened. Surely he'd know then how to fix it?

"You comin'?" Chris asked, and Buck shook his head.

"Thought I might get me some dinner. Maybe set here a while," he replied, eyes still on the window down the street.

"Buck."

He wrenched his attention back, and got it. Yeah. He wanted to know.

His eyes turned back up to the boarding house as he drifted after Larabee. At least. He thought he wanted to know.


	3. Chapter 3

"What about Miz Nettie's?"

"We can't send him there, he'd never be able to look Casey in the face. And what if they startled him?" 

"He's not going anywhere he might pull a gun on innocent bystanders," Chris said flatly.

"He pulled a gun?" Vin looked from Chris to Buck and back. "What did you do--"

"He didn't mean it, we scared him." Buck said quickly, and didn't let himself see Chris's impatient look.

"I was afraid of this," Josiah said quietly, and Buck glared at him.

"If you'd just, just broken your wrist and *you* woke up with four big guys sleeping on top of you--"

"I didn't mean anything--"

"Then don't *say* anything," Buck hissed viciously, and would have risen but for the white-knuckled grip Chris had on his thigh under the table.

"You fuckin' idiots," Vin growled. "You -- he -- and you went and *slept* with him?"

"No, not--" Buck stopped, miserable. He didn't know how to put together the thoughts in his head, which said, but he loves us holding him, and, I kissed him yesterday, just a little brush over his lips, was that the last one? And wondering how he had already forgotten everything about the taste and flavor of it except that it had been sweet, and now it was forbidden. The world went on without him, and he barely heard it as Chris spoke, trying to explain without explaining.

"I didn't know," Chris said uncomfortably, and his hand loosened on Buck's thigh. Buck's hand somehow wrapped around Chris's where it lay just above his knee, and held on. Don't let go too. We didn't think, but don't let go.

"I just bet. But Buck knew. And Nathan I'll bet."

Buck flinched. "We were -- I was trying to help."

"Did it?" Vin asked coldly. He looked at each of the men around the table and none of them could hold his eyes, not even Josiah, who hadn't even been there. Buck wondered what guilt hid behind that awkward shift and shuffle. Surely Josiah had nothing to blame himself for? And then he wondered if Vin's anger was because he blamed himself too. What had they seen out there?

Buck sighed and looked down. Chris's hand twisted in his and their fingers meshed, out of sight, reminding him that they were bound here by more than just a dollar a day. He tried to think, answer Vin's question. JD hadn't been actually crying when they left. Surely anger was better than that emotionless acceptance? "I swear, it helped him some, Vin. I wouldn't hurt a hair on his head; you know that, not and meaning it. It was just -- he woke and didn't remember right off. It jangled his nerves some. That's all."

"Fuckin' *stupid*," Vin growled, but there was less venom to it. There was understanding in his face, right along with the tight anger. There was a long silence, Buck didn't know how to break it, what to say.

He looked around the saloon. No one else was there, still too early for any but the most dedicated drinkers, and they were both sitting right at the table with them. Behind the bar, Inez was wiping down glasses, diplomatically oblivious to their conversation. She was a good woman. If things had been different... and didn't that take him right back to where he started? 

Someone drew in a deep breath and he looked up. Josiah was staring at his glass, like he might see a better truth refracted through the liquor. Maybe he did. Maybe that's why he drank.

"We burned the shack." Josiah's voice was soft, reflective; his eyes bleak. "We'll need to go back and remove--" his eyes flickered to Chris and then back down to the glass of rotgut he was holding, "--anything of importance."

A body in a burned out hut. He could almost see Chris retreating, and said instantly, "I'll go."

Chris's hand tightened on his for a second, almost painfully, and then eased. He nodded, and no one spoke for a few seconds, knowing where Chris's mind was, waiting for whatever was to come.

"Tomorrow morning, perhaps?" Josiah suggested. "But the question of JD...?"

Vin shook his head decisively. "Chris's place." 

"But not on his own," Buck said instantly, and then realized he'd just agreed to hiding JD away from the town for as long as it took, and second guessed himself. "Maybe he should stay here. Far as they know, it's just a broken wrist."

"But it ain't," Vin said simply.

And that was the raw heart of it. No pretending was going to make it just a broken wrist, although it was going to be convenient, God, 'convenient' to be able to say, yes, he broke his wrist, ain't going to be up to much for a while to folks and see them nod.

"Let him go, Buck," Josiah said so quietly that Buck could pretend that he hadn't heard it.

"Or we could go over to the village, it would be quiet there."

"Buck." Josiah reached over the table and took his beer away from him. "Let him go."

"No." Buck thought he'd said it, but it was Chris, and he smiled tightly. Yeah. No one was taking away their pack.

Josiah shook his head slowly, he looked disappointed, as though they'd failed some test. His eyes traveled around each of them. "You can't force him--" he stopped, and Buck felt sick, as sick as Chris and Vin looked, he thought, and Josiah nodded. "Exactly."

He sighed and looked down, and then said quietly, his eyes on Vin, "We have to tell them."

Buck didn't understand. And then Vin drew a deep breath, and spoke.

"Place was deserted. Knocked, but there weren't no answer. Josiah went in, and we found him." There was no elaboration needed. Vin's spat words and chilly eyes were enough to understand who 'he' was. "Was dead. Reckon he'd been dead about two, maybe three hours. Head stove in."

He met Buck's eyes steadily. "He got exactly what he deserved. Don't you *ever* tell that kid otherwise."

Buck felt a jolt of horror, what was he saying, that JD deserved -- and Vin was talking again, and the horror was overwhelmed as the distant words made slow sense.

"He beat him to death with the stock of a rifle. Not JD's. And then he got a hold of his prick and he ripped it off, and he rammed it where it belonged. He got his justice."

There was silence at the little table. A bubble that seemed to effortlessly hold off the lesser sounds of the world.

"That rifle was--" Vin stopped and drained his drink and poured another and drained that too like it was water, eyes fixed on the glass, his hands, anything but their faces. "It doesn't matter." Buck saw the moment when Vin decided to keep his conclusions to himself. He could guess. Gun oil, where it had no business being. He could guess. His anger burned brighter for its targetless frustration.

"Too good for him," Buck snarled.

"Better than the law," Josiah said, and there was again a long silence. With his attacker dead, JD would never have to testify, even if they had found a crime to charge the man with that didn't ruin the boy as surely as it condemned his attacker. 

Vin's chair scraped back. "I'm gonna go see how Ezra is," and Buck blinked.

"Took some food up to Nate."

"I know." Vin looked at the three of them and shrugged faintly. "Take him out to your place," he said directly to Chris, "and let him be." He walked away.

Josiah cleared his throat, and stood also. "I must admit to a wish to see --" He let the sentence go, and nodded to Chris, to Buck and followed Vin out of the saloon.

They sat there in silence until Chris's hand, almost forgotten in Buck's, tightened. He lifted his head to look at him, and found charged, desperate need that matched his own.

Without a word they rose and left, separating at the saloon door, Chris turning right, Buck left on a path that would turn left and left again and go in through a back door, and meet again with Chris in the dusty heat of his room.

* * *

Ezra was sitting outside JD's room, his hands turning a pack of cards to and fro sometimes almost shuffling them, sometimes running a thumbnail along the corners in a long dry rip of sound. Vin frowned, and crouched by his chair, tilting his head back to peer up into Ezra's face. 

"Ez?"

Ezra wouldn't meet his eyes. "And did your venture bear fruit?"

"Stinking dead fruit, lying in its own muck." 

"I congratulate you."

"Weren't me." He looked sideways at the closed door, drew breath to say something else and left it. Ezra looked at him at that, and smiled, a small, cruel expression. 

"Good boy," he breathed. His hands paused, and he sighed.

Vin still watched the door, as though the wood could sprout words to speak its secrets. "You think Nate'll--"

Ezra's lips twitched. "Our young friend is rather more fearsome than Nathan at present," he looked down at the cards, "and quite adamant that he is fine on his own."

"He's on his own in there?" Vin started to rise to his feet. That wasn't right, he shouldn't be on his--and he stopped, his own words to Chris echoing in his head halting his move faster than Ezra's hand on his shoulder.

"No." Ezra smiled faintly. "I'll lay odds on Nathan to out-stubborn any man in the Territory."

Vin half smiled, and twisted, dropping to sit with his back against the wall, beside Ezra's chair, just close enough that his shoulder brushed Ezra's hip. He let his eyes slide shut in the quiet, and reached up to lay his hand over Ezra's where it still rested on his shoulder.

"I'm going to miss him," Ezra said out of the blue, after a silence so long Vin had started to doze off. The boarding house was quiet and stuffy, and the wooden walls gave the daylight a soft brown feel, dust hanging in the air, the motes motionless in the light from the window at the far end of the corridor.

"Hm?" he asked muzzily, lifting his head from where it had slipped to rest against Ezra, Vin's cheek pressed on their clasped hands.

"I suppose I could donate my mattress to him."

Vin kept his eyes on the wall. Ezra had complained often enough about JD taking over his feather bed. About how the kid cuddled in his sleep, but never offered much more than shy caresses and chaste kisses in return. No more complaining. He wondered what it was going to be like, going back to a world where they didn't touch JD. Thinking about it, maybe not even touching each other in front of him; not till they knew how he'd be about it, after.

"Nah. Keep it. Might persuade him." Vin glanced up, and swiftly away again. "Silver tongue like yours."

"I doubt even the lure of a feather bed will convince him to come creepin' into my bed again."

They both sighed, and Ezra's hand turned, folding his fingers around Vin's. Vin brushed a kiss over his knuckles, light as breathing. There wasn't anything to say, so they didn't say it.

Nathan came out, maybe an hour later, and shook his head at them, but pressed his finger to his lips when they would have spoken.

"Sleepin'." His voice sounded rusty. "I'll be back in a couple of hours." He nodded at the two of them, and Vin saw his eyes flicker over their joined hands before he turned and walked noiselessly down the stairs.

"They're thinking of takin' him up to Chris's place," he said abruptly.

"Hmm."

"You think it's a bad idea?"

"What? Oh, no, no. On the contrary, I was thinking quite recently that we must start making renovations to that abominable little hut."

"We?" Vin blinked at that, and looked up, "Am I hearing Ezra P. Standish offerin' to get his hands dirtied up?"

Ezra smirked. "I was thinking of more of a supervisory role for myself. After all, *someone* has to design something moderately habitable and oversee its construction."

Vin snorted under his breath. That'd last five minutes, tops, before someone, and it was even money between Chris, Nathan and Josiah, decided to stand over Ez until he did an honest day's labor.

"I detect a hint of skepticism."

"I'm detecting a whole heap of somethin', and it's smelling real ripe."

Ezra chuckled softly and his hand tightened on Vin's. Vin turned the thought of building over slowly. They'd been saying for months that they were going to add on, or build fresh up on Chris's land. Something always seemed to get in the way. If JD was up there anyway, and Buck too, like as not, then maybe the rest of them would find the incentive to get started. Get the town used to the idea of having some of them off up there most nights.

It had potential. JD wouldn't be able to do much with his wrist wrapped, but they could find enough to keep him busy. Might be the best thing all round. Keep them altogether, without forcing their company on the kid.

"Could work."

"Hmm?" Only one of Ezra's eyes opened to look foggily at him. "I thought you were asleep."

"Thinkin' about building."

Ezra rolled his eyes. "Of course it would work. It was my idea. Naturally it would work."

Vin grinned. He rubbed his chin over Ezra's hand. "If he wants to go."

Ezra nodded, and they fell back into silence. Vin watched the stripe of sunlight drift slowly across the hall, redden, and fade out of sight. The tramp of feet on the stairs tugged him into instant alertness, and their hands disengaged without a word, his own reaching for his shotgun even as Ezra, he knew, was loosening his Remington.

"Evenin'," Josiah said softly. He cocked his head at the door. "Anything?"

Ezra shook his head, and Vin shrugged. They'd heard nothing. If he was sleeping he wasn't making a sound -- and if he was awake, he was worryingly silent.

Josiah sighed, and tapped on the door. "JD, son, it's Josiah."

The bed creaked inside, then JD's voice, scratchy but steady, said, "Come on in."

Josiah turned the handle and went in, closing it behind him before the others could get to their feet.

"Expected him sooner," Vin said vaguely. Over the low sound of voices Vin heard Ezra's "Hmm," and rose to his feet. He shook himself, sitting on the floor in one place for hours was not unfamiliar, but it didn't get more comfortable. "You planning on staying here all night?"

A rustle and the faint shift of Ezra's shoulders was his only answer. He took a step away, and hesitated.

"Almost irresistible, isn't it?" Ezra murmured. Vin looked at him, confused. "That urge to check on him."

Vin half shrugged, but didn't deny it. He was still waiting, a hand on Ezra's shoulder, when the door opened, and Josiah emerged carrying a tray, plate clean, pie dish empty. He eyed the two of them, then nodded to Vin. 

"I'll clear this. I'll be by later, or up at the saloon if he asks for me," he said, and disappeared down the stairs, each step creaking heavily as he balanced himself and his load.

"Well?"

Vin shrugged again. "Doesn't need an audience."

"I didn't take you for a coward."

Vin's hands didn't fist, but so nearly...

* * *

JD was reading. Vin blinked a little. It seemed oddly normal; he wasn't quite sure what he'd expected, and batted his hat at his leg, as though to shake road dust from it. "Hey kid."

JD looked at him, and that was the hardest thing in the world, to meet his eyes, second guessing 'normal'. "Vin." He put the book down. "You read this one?"

Vin squinted at the title -- upside down and in poor light --

"That thing," he said, surprised. "I thought Chris had gotten all the copies."

JD grinned. "Nah. I just came to an arrangement with Mrs. Potter." He smiled down at the bed covers, "She made me promise to keep it away from the kids."

Vin nodded, trying not to grin at the thought of JD -- barely more than a kid himself -- solemnly agreeing to guard the morals of the town's children.

"I like this one."

"Even though--"

"Even though it's all bullshit, and romantic claptrap, and completely insane," he agreed, "even so." He touched the battered paper cover. "I like it."

Maybe that was the trick of it, dreaming. Vin wondered if he'd been let learn to read his dreams would have held together longer. 

"You ever get to read it?"

Vin shook his head. "Just them bits Buck read out before Chris torched that copy." JD grinned at the memory, and fiddled with the spine of the book. It was creased and looked set to give way at the least provocation. JD held the book out and Vin was startled into a smile.

"What?"

"Go on, I--"

"I can't." He stuck his hands behind his back. 

"I've got more where this one came from."

Vin shook his head and JD's smile faded. "Sorry," he said softly, staring down at his book. Vin shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uneasily. He kept trying to think of something to say, but couldn't bring himself to begin. What could he say? 'I saw how you tore up that fella and I'm proud of you'? 'It doesn't matter'? 'Don't go away'? 

"You don't have to stay. I'll be all right on my own," JD said rather sharply into the heavy, uncomfortable silence.

"Sorry, I --," he stopped, tried again, "JD, I saw--" He twisted his hat in his hands, looked around the room. He'd not been in here to look around before. Usually he was in just long enough to be sure JD was up out of bed and moving, and then gone again. He'd spent time in Buck's bed, and Ezra's, and Chris's. He knew the clinic well enough, and the church. 

"Go away, Vin," JD said. He sounded like he was stretched to the very edge of his endurance. "You don't have to be here."

"I want to--"

"Funny way a showing it!" JD snapped. "You can't even look me in the face! What's the matter? You think I shouldn'a done it?"

"No!" Vin shook his head, shocked.

"No? What was I s'pposed to do, huh? Say thank you kindly and take some tea with him?"

"No! No, JD," Vin half knelt on the edge of the bed, hand almost touching JD's knee. "You can't --"

"I *can't*?" His jaw locked hard. "What can't I do, Vin Tanner?"

He did grip JD's knee, didn't let the kid's instinctive jerk away disturb him. "Listen. Listen!"

Reluctantly JD looked at him, and Vin gentled his grip at the fear in JD's eyes. He drove the nausea down, ignored it, looked past the fear for JD. "If it had been me, I'd'a gutted him, and strung his intestines from wall to wall," he said with low, venomous intensity, holding the shadowed eyes. "I ain't got nothing to say to that, but you freed your own self, and you stopped him ever hurting anyone again." Vin waited a moment as JD swallowed, but he said nothing, and Vin continued. "An' if I'd found him, if I'd known--" JD's hand came up defensively, refusing the rest "--I'd'a shown you how the Comanche c'n take a week to let a man die."

"You'd've let me do it?"

It couldn't be called a smile, because there was nothing pleasant in it. "I'd'a given you the knives and stoked the fire myself."

JD stared at him, wide eyed, then shuddered. When he looked up again, there was a small smile on his lips. "Thanks," he whispered, and touched Vin's wrist lightly. "That means --" He stopped, lost for words and Vin's face felt like it was breaking apart as he smiled.

"You without something to say? Ezra'll be giving up the cards next."

JD smiled briefly, the smile widened as another voice broke in.

"Do I hear my name being taken in vain?"

"Hey, Ezra," JD said as the gambler's head appeared around the door. "You comin' to visit too?"

"I have been awaiting my opportunity to discuss something with you."

JD frowned a little. "Discuss what?" he said suspiciously.

Ezra fanned the cards on the blanket. "A small matter of a bet that Vin entered into. Perhaps you would like to place a side wager on the outcome?"

"Outcome?" JD looked from one to the other, uncertain, but willing to play along, a spark of interest. "What bet?" Vin wondered that too, but let it be with only a warning smile that could have been anything. He settled in a little closer, and watched Ezra ramble, spinning bullshit and lies into something that made JD smile again.


End file.
